Is There Such Thing As Happily Ever After?

Prologue: 3 words, 8 letters, one strong meaning, life goes on. Katniss I pace silently through the woods, a bow and arrow at the ready; eyes open and searching for movement. But today, my mind is far away. It is spring, a little over a year after I returned to District 12, and bright green sprouts have begun to emerge from every surface. Warm, fresh-smelling wind takes the edge off the chilly air, and signs of new life crowds the woods. Things arent changing just in the woods, though. In the past year, more people had come to District 12, babies were born, schools and shops built. The District Council are even planning on building a mall and movie theatre. Peeta and I have changed as well. We are still broken people, we still have nightmares, and there are still times when one of us wakes up screaming our heads off, not knowing who we are. But he loves me, and has loved me all along. And somewhere along the way, I finally realized how just how much I love him too. All Peeta had done was love me, take care of me, and love me some more. He waited for me. He gave up his life, and his mind, to save mine, repeatedly. And in the past, what had I done for him? I pushed him away, time and time again. So today, I will tell him I love him. In the past, Ive showed him how I felt about him, and when he asked me if I loved him, I said yes. But Ive never really gone up to him and said I love you. Why? All the people I loved were hurt. Everything I touched was destroyed. Whenever I want to tell Peeta that I love him...... the image of Primrose, my sweet, innocent, beautiful sister fills

my vision. Other times, I see Peetas blood splattering on the pristine tiles of a floor in the Capitol. I see Cinna, beaten and bloody, being dragged away from me. I see Darius and Lavinia. I see my father. I see all the people that perished in the uprising. And it reminds me of what happens to people I care about. That to love someone is to, eventually, lose them. It has already taken me so long to convince myself that Peeta wouldnt be ripped from me like everyone else. After all, even after all that has happened, he is one of the few people that remain by my side. And I owe it to him, to let him know that I really, truly, love him. That all the love he poured into me wasnt for nothing. Peeta understands me so well; he would know the exact significance of my words. I sigh and lower my bow. I will not get any hunting done today. Walking back to town, a strange clenching sensation grips my stomach. Fear? No. Anticipation? Impatiently, I quicken my pace gradually until I am sprinting at full speed, and burst into the bakery, panting hard. As soon as I am inside, the delicious smells of baking bread and pastries waft through my nose and my stomach growls loudly. But my hunger is forgotten as soon as I see him; my beautiful, sweet, caring, strong, boy with the bread. I take him in, from his soft blonde curls, to his beautiful blue eyes, to his sweet smile, to his strong arms. A big, stupid grin spreads across my face in place of my ever-present scowl, and what feels like pure joy fills my heart and runs through my veins.

Peeta looks up from the cake he is currently working on, and freezes. He stands there, just staring at me, for a long moment. Suddenly I am worried. Why are you looking at me like that? Stop, Its creepy, I laugh nervously, wondering if I something got stuck to me during my time in the woods. I just.... havent seen you smile like that.... In years, he breathes; and a mixture of emotions flickers across his face-awe, happiness, sadness, anger, then back to sadness, and finally, hopefulness. Yes. I havent smiled like this since before my father died. This smile that can only appear on a blissfully happy girls face, devoid of worry and want. The smile of a girl in love. Peeta snaps out of his reverie, and walks to me, handing me a cheese bun. He smiles, his whole face brightening when I kiss him as a thank-you. I chomp down on the bun eagerly and mumble, Peeta, would you like to come into the woods with me? I have something to show you, Anything to keep that beautiful smile on your face, he replies, his eyes shining. We started walking towards the woods. Hah. Beautiful? Me? I retorted. Its sad that you dont know how beautiful you are, he insists, when you smile, its like the sun breaking through on a stormy day. Except your eyes shine so brightly they put the sun to shame,

I stop arguing, partly because I know Ill never win, and partly to hide the fact that a lump had formed in my throat. My cheeks flush an alarming shade of red. Leading the way, I walk through the forest, to the lake and tiny cabin. I had never brought Peeta here before. It reminded me too much of Gale, and it hurt. But I was finally ready to let go, to accept that I made the right decision. During the past year, I had cleaned up the little cabin, with some help from the home builders. It was painted a pretty shade of blue, had new, clean windows, the floor was covered with thick rugs, furniture was added, and I added my own little touches. I open the door, and Peeta smiles in delight. There is a small bed, a couch, a small table, and 2 chairs. I point at the bowl in the centre of the table, which holds small, glittering, greyish, translucent pebbles, and feathers that line the side of the bowl. The feathers are sky blue with golden tips. The feathers reminded me of you, I say shyly, because the blue is like your eyes, and the gold is like your hair. And the pebbles are like your eyes? he adds. I just nod. We sit at the table and eat the bread, fruit, meat, and water that I packed away in my bag earlier today. And when were done, we look at each other, in a comfortable silence. Our eyes say everything. Peeta gently cups my face with one hand, and I lean into it, holding it against my cheek.

I love you, I say, simply. But those 3 little words mean so much. And his eyes are so filled with love and understanding. He takes out something from his pocket; the pearl he gave me in the Quarter Quell arena. On a shining, delicate, golden ring. One day, lets get married, okay? Peeta says, his voice low and husky with emotion, as he slips the ring onto my finger. In response, I wrap my arms around his neck, and kiss him. His arms, warm and strong, pull me to him, and we are like one person, breathing in unison.

Katniss Peeta and I sit in the train, scenery rushing past us in a blur of colour. A year had passed since that magical day in the woods, and we were not married. The delicate, pearl-and-gold beauty that is on my finger is more of a promise ring, anyway. We are on our way to the Capitol, to see Cinna's only living relative-his niece, Suzanne.

Flashback: I wake to a shrill ringing sound echoing through the house. Opening my eyes blearily, I smile, finding Peeta's angelic face inches from mine, still sleeping. Careful not to disturb him, I untangle myself from Peeta, and walk to the phone.
"Hello?" I say. "Good morning, is this Katniss Everdeen?" a girl replies. "Yes. How may I help you?" "My name is Suzanne Collins. Your stylist, Cinna, was my uncle, and our whole family

was heavily involved with the uprising. I, specifically, have a talent for writing, so while I was helping hand out food and other supplies, I also published short speeches to motivate the rebels," she-Suzanne-continues. "And while the government was overthrown, Snow's former people are still out there, spreading doubt and dissent among the people; many of them went underground as a precaution as soon as your first games, to gain strength and numbers while undercover."
"What do you want me to do?" I ask, my stomach clenching. There was absolutely

NO WAY I was going to go back into the war.

Hearing the wariness in my voice, Suzanne says, "I think not many people understood your story, and your situation. One of the things people are still very unsettled about is your assassination of Coin. I would like to write a series of books about you, from your first games to the present. To clarify your motivations, and to raise awareness about the Uprising."
"That would be okay," I say, my voice barely a whisper.

We start talking on the phone every few days, and she turns out to be a very likeable girl. She's 15 years old, her family were capitol citizens, but they spent most of their time going from district to district, doing philanthropist work and making sure hope stayed alive. She was mainly home-schooled, and she finished all her high school exams before other children had even finished middle school. Her father was a politician, and passed important information to the districts, warning them of new dangers from the Capitol, and telling the rebels of the best time to start a rally. Often, when it was dangerous, her parents sent her to a secluded cabin in the wilderness, and she learned to be self-sufficient. And when her family's cover was blown, the only thing that saved her was that little cabin. They were all executed. But Suzanne is strong, cheerful even, has a beautiful way with words, a gentle nature, and a delightful sense of humour. A poet, songwriter, author, artist, she reminds me so much of Cinna that it hurts; the way she loves her craft, and puts everything she has into it. She talks to Peeta, and he says, jokingly, she's like the little sister he never had. And then she suggests that we meet her in the Capitol.
"Katniss?" Peeta's voice jolts me out of my reverie. "Sorry, what?" I say rather ungracefully. "I was asking if you'd sing," He looks at me from behind a large pad of paper. "Drawing me yet again?" I laugh, and begin to hum a haunting tune that Suzanne sang for me over the phone. She hadn't figured out the lyrics yet. When we get to the Capitol, Suzanne is waiting for us at the train stop. A rather handsome boy with brown curls and earnest green eyes stands next to her. "Katniss! Peeta!" Suzanne's face lights up, and she runs toward us, taking the boy by the hand. Suzanne has large, brown, almond-shaped eyes, wavy dark brown hair that is adorned with a purple headband, and long willowy limbs. "This is Matthew," she introduces the boy, looking up at him with a loving smile. Matthew smiles back at her, the same blissfully-in-love expression that I've become so familiar with on his face. "You can call me Matt," his voice is deeper than his baby face would suggest.

We go to Suzanne's apartment, a cute little space that is cozy yet still roomy enough for a little luxury. We talk for hours; Suzanne makes us lunch and dinner, and then disappears into her room for a long writing session (but not before giving Matt a really long goodbye kiss.) Peeta and I get ready for bed in Suzanne's clean, spacious bathroom. While I brush my hair, I think of all the things I learned about Suzanne today; she and Matt are childhood friends and basically loved each other from the day they first met, she plays piano, violin, and guitar, and spends most of her time writing and publishing books. She not only reminds me of Cinna, but of Rue and Primrose and even Peeta too. I'm already very fond of her-it's impossible not to like her. That night I sleep peacefully; it's Peeta who suffers from an "episode" this time. I wake when he thrashes so hard I get thrown right out of the guest bed. I shake his shoulder, whispering calmly to him, but his arm whips out and grabs my wrist so hard I know I'll have bruises. "You said you loved me! How could you do this to me?" he looks at me, tears filling his eyes. "It was just a dream, Peeta, please believe me, I do love you-" "No you don't! I loved you, and all I wanted was for you to be happy. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you." And even though his eyes are filled with nothing but pain, and even though I know this is the result of his nightmares, I still begin to sob, staggering back as if he'd slapped me, but his hand remains anchored to my wrist. Those were the words I never wanted to hear from him. Never from him. Falling to my knees, I collapse into him, and bury my face into the familiar space between his neck and shoulder. "Snap out of it, Peeta. Peeta! Come back to me!" I manage choke out, sobbing so hard that it shakes my whole body with violent heaves. And slowly, Peeta comes back. His arms wrap around my waist protectively, though the person that he must protect me from is himself. "I'm sorry. Katniss, don't cry, it breaks my heart. I'm so, so, sorry, Katniss!" his voice cracks, and it sounds as if his heart really is breaking. As soon as I calm down, I say, "Don't be sorry, Peeta. It's not your fault. Don't ever be sorry." It's my fault, all my fault, that he's in this condition anyways.

"I love you, Katniss," he whispers. "I love you too." He kisses me urgently, and we tangle together, wishing we would never have to separate. The next morning, I realize that Suzanne most likely heard the whole thing, but Suzanne doesn't seem bothered by it. In fact, it probably gives her more material for the books, a better understanding. After a month of answering Suzanne's questions for the books, visiting the Hunger Games memorials, and a lot of crying (and kissing (yes, in public too)), Peeta and I go home. Suzanne and I stay in touch, and we get closer, so that she's like a sister to me. Before long, the Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay get published. They're all HUGE hits, and Peeta and I get plunged back into fame. Peeta and I read them together, and we're both touched so deeply-the way Suzanne (Collins ;) thinks from my perspective and yet tells our story better than I could. Not to mention that it helped remind any ignorant people of how awful the Capitol was before the equally awful Uprising. But, apparently, it didn't help enough to prevent my worst nightmare from coming to life. Authors's note: The Real fun begins after this chapter. Review please!

Chapter three Sorry for not writing for so long. I have a lot of exams. This chapter is BO-RING. Sorry. But it gets better! Stick with me~ "Wait, WHAT?" Katniss yelled into the phone, and felt tears gather into her eyes. "We have confirmed that Suzanne and Matthew Lovecraft have been captured by Rebel forces," the Capitol woman on the other end repeated. Katniss was losing it. After all that had happened, how could she lose yet another person that she cared so deeply about? How did rebel forces even exist after the uprising? "It is believed that they were targeted because of the philanthropist work that they did in the districts, and particularly because of the enormous positive impact made because of Suzanne's 'Hunger Games' trilogy." "H-h-how the capitol." Katniss could barely speak at all. Had they all suffered in vain? "It is also believed that, after the unrest that came after the 74th Hunger Games, a large group of capitol officials, as well as highly trained militants, went underground in case of an uprising," the capitol woman continued, "and they have been working to create unrest among the districts, kidnapping people, spreading whispers of war, trying to turn people against each other." "But. You can.. Find them, right?" "I am sorry, Mrs. Mellark, but there is a great deal of secrecy around this rebel group. They have taken every precaution possible so that finding the location of their main base would be near impossible. There is also the added factor that when the Lovecrafts were captured, they were in the wilderness, and although there was evidence of a struggle where their belongings were found their captors covered their tracks extremely well. It was as if no one had ever been there." Katniss felt her stomach lurch, and she dropped the phone and ran, past a bewildered Peeta, to the washroom, and threw up. Soon she felt Peeta gently pulling her hair back and rubbing her back soothingly. It was all Katniss could do to wash her mouth out before collapsing into Peeta's arms, and blacking out.

For the first time in years, Katniss relived the deaths of all her loved ones, until she finally came to Suzanne. Suzanne, smiling in that innocent way of hers that made your heart melt. Suzanne, at Katniss and Peeta's wedding, smiling, laughing, crying, hugging them. Suzanne and the beautiful poems she wrote, and recited, one for every mood, setting, and situation. Suzanne at her own wedding, looking so beautiful, Katniss thought that Prim and Rue would have been as beautiful if only they'd had a chance. Suzanne holding baby Roxanne Mellark, and then Aiden, whispering rhymes, looking like the proudest aunt in the world. Suzanne, whom the whole Mellark family adored.

Another 2 people who have been robbed of the chance to live out their life. Katniss
thought, until finally, she drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep. Explaining such things as the Hunger Games, the Uprising, and the deaths of so many people to Katniss and Peeta's children was never easy for them. But explaining what had happened to Suzanne and Matthew was excruciating. Aiden was 9, and Roxanne was 13,and it was the first time that they had lost someone so dear and close to them. For Katniss and Peeta, it had been such a long time, that the pain of losing them was like claws of sorrow, ripping back open the delicate scar tissue that time had only just healed. But what could they do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing to help the ones they cared for. And that was the worst part. So what happened after? Aiden's already above average grades soared, and he joined every school club and activity that he could (his favourite was debate club, as he was an ambitious young leader.) Roxanne threw her whole self, body, mind, and soul, into her dancing, acting, and art. Whenever she thought she might collapse and never get up (teenager issues as well-GAH!) she would pirouette, leap, flip, arabesque, and basically through herself around gracefully until her legs ached. Peeta's baked goods became increasingly intricate and palatable, and he would often experiment with whatever ingredients he had around. Peeta also spent even more time holding Katniss, gently whispering into her ear and stroking her hair until she came out of her stupors. Katniss honed her hunting skills, sewed, and learned other art forms with Peeta.

Everyone re-read the Hunger Games books several times, savouring every word like it was a piece of Suzanne. The gifts from her that were around in the house became even more cherished artefacts. Life went on. And, slowly, thinking about the past wasn't so unpleasant. But today, Aiden will meet a girl. And their first meeting will be the beginning of what will one day become an integral part of Panem's history. Like father, like son, right? Once again, thanks for reading, please leave a review, and bear with me! Somehow I'll finish this story!

Chapter 4: Aiden Mellark Aiden Mellark /dn/ /dn/ Makes everyone smile where ever he goes. Will be remembered by many. Has a charming, caring personality. Means "Little Fire" in Gaelic. Lives in District 12, renamed FireHeart Province. Has a head full of messy blond curls; bright, intelligent grey eyes; his father's strength; his mother's deadly determination. Has always been top of the class, with ridiculously high grades. A strong athlete. The youngest member of the Inner Council at FireHeart Senior School (Grades 7-12, population approx. 4000) (The Inner Council; the most powerful people in the Student Council, the leaders among leaders.) Also a very artistic person; learned to draw and paint from father (Peeta Mellark) and also a talented guitarist. A little bit shy at times, very diplomatic, down to earth. Likes spicy food and the colour black. Aiden was 12 when one day, a new girl came to his school. This was nothing new, as a steady stream of new inhabitants entered the Province every day. But this girl, as it became evident, was the one student that could match Aiden's skill set on all fronts. This girl's circle of friends was separate from Aiden's, however, so it wasn't until a warm spring day a few months into seventh grade/their first year at FHSS that he became truly aware of her existence. Aiden had just walked out of the main school building after an unusually rowdy school council meeting. After much yelling and fussing and disagreeing, his head was pounding. So when his many friends volunteered to go outside with him, he turned them all down in favour of a quiet, solitary walk. Sometimes it's better to be alone,Aiden thought; for him, moments of calm isolation and introspection were few and far between. Flashback "Ah. I have a bit of a headache; may I be excused for a bit?" "Yes; sure. I'll come with you, if you want," replied the kind-eyed 6th year girl who was the president of the Student Council. "No, thank y-" "Can I come?" "NO! Pick me!" "I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!" shrieked Adelheid, a first year who was in Aiden's class. Everyone went silent, and stared at her in surprise. Adelheid just smiled.

Aiden smiled back, but said, "No. I'm just going to take a short walk anyways." Everyone looked a little deflated. No one really wanted to be in the Council room discussing budgeting and organization for the upcoming events when it was such a beautiful day outside. Walking through the densely wooded area of the campus, to the sunny spot that he always went to when he wanted to relax, Aiden thought a little about Adelheid. She had wavy blond hair, blue eyes, and had the sort of in-your-face beauty that made her very popular. But she was arrogant and rude, and wasn't afraid to push other people down to get what she wanted. She's always throwing herself at me, he thought, it's kind of a nuisance. When he got to his quiet place, he saw a person lying on the plush green grass, their hair burning red-gold in the faint sunshine, their fitted uniform rustling slightly in the gentle wind. Aiden took a step closer, then another, tentatively, as if he was trying not to disturb the majestic silence that surrounded him. It was a girl. A first year, he noted, glancing at the single red band encircling the white material of her upper right sleeve. The sun hid behind a cloud. Aiden sat down on a large rock beside the girl. Now that Aiden looked closer, he saw that her hair was actually a dark brown colour. Her skin had a warm, yellowy-tan undertone. She snored softly. Oh, I think I recognize her Aiden leaned in to look at her face. The sun shone briefly through the trees, its warmth and light transforming her brown hair into a fiery crimson. Crimson hair? It's beautiful. I can't look away. He leaned even closer. Her eyelids lifted the tiniest bit; her nose twitched and she sneezed. Right in his face. Aiden almost fell off of his rock-seat, thrown suddenly out of his trance. "Oh! I'm so sorry!" the girl exclaimed, jumping up and brushing grass off her uniform.

"It's okay." Aiden's lips twitched a little, as he tried to stifle a laugh. Her hair and clothing were dishevelled, and she looked half asleep. "I'm Aiden. Aiden Mellark." He flashed her his signature winning grin. " Isabelle Annalisa Speerheart," she replied rather robotically. "But I prefer any of the following nicknames; Izzy, Belle, Anna, or Lisa." She smiled sheepishly. The bell that signified the end of lunch break rang out, and Izzy/Belle/Anna/Lisa gave Aiden one more smile. "See you around!" she chirped; then bolted out of the clearing, not noticing when a white, embroidered piece of cloth slipped out of her pocket, and fluttered onto the grass. Aiden stared after her, and his laughter soon filled the silence she had left. She's too cute, he thought. Strange, but cute. As he began to walk back towards the main building, Aiden reached down and picked up the cloth. It was made out of a smooth, soft material, and it whispered against his skin like zephyrs in the night. On it was an embroidered bird, with its wings spread, in brilliant shades of red, purple, gold, pink, and blue, flying through a sea of .. petals? No, Aiden thought. Flames. Fire flared off of its wings and tail feathers. Like a phoenix, rising from the fire, triumphant. In the corner were 4 letters: AFPL I wonder what that stands for. ***** Arrrrgh! I'm such an idiot! Isabelle thought. I can talk perfectly well with random strangers, but not with him, of all people. Isabelle already knew who Aiden was. Who in FHSS didn't? He was in her music class. She took one look at him, and for the life of her, couldn't look away. It was all very clich. The teachers at school couldn't say one thing about Aiden anymore, without mentioning Isabelle as well. .oh yeah, did you know what mark he got on CASI? He got perfect again this year! But Aiden wasn't the only one, was he? That transfer student Isabelle-something-or-other, she's this close to taking his 1st place ranking. Isabelle gritted her teeth. She really liked him, but why she liked him was beyond her. She didn't even know him that well, but it felt like she'd known him all along; that he'd always been there, in her thoughts, in her dreams, but not really there.

I sound like a total psycho. That was the first time I've ever spoken to him directly, and he probably thinks I'm a weirdo now. Sighing, Isabelle put a diplomatic smile on her face, and joined her friends. Isabelle Annalisa Speerheart /zbl/ Makes everyone smile. Will be remembered by many. Has a good sense of humour, likes poetry, is a romantic. Very outgoing, determined, resilient, strong. Known for agility; both physically and mentally, magnificent pencil sketches, beautiful voice, poetry, fiction writing, etc. Skilled piano, violin player, likes to play her ukulele on sunny days. Has large, browngold, almond shaped eyes, wavy, unkempt, red-brown hair, yellowy-undertone skin, ancestors possibly from the Orient. Has ridiculously high grades, but came to FHSS late, so couldn't join Student Council. Likes debate club, romance novels, cats, guinea pigs, music, spicy food, the colour red, and sweets. Isabelle Annalisa Speerheart is not her real name. No records of her exist in the Panem files prior to this year.